


Muggle Terms

by reecethewriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (only a little bit), (sorry), Angst, Explicit Language, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hermione and Pansy might be a thing, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Humor, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, I'm not sure yet, M/M, Pansy's A Lesbian, Smut, common room, i'm the only gay allowed to panic around here, no gay panic because my boys are self aware homosexuals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-22 23:46:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11977638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reecethewriter/pseuds/reecethewriter
Summary: Draco has been insulting Potter forever, and his latest favorite insult has been calling him "thick". Fed up, Pansy explains to him what exactly that means in muggle terms.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is the first Harry Potter fic I've done so far, and it's still a work in progress. I should be updating it regularly. Thanks for reading, please leave kudos and feel free to comment!!!

“It’s just, he’s so fucking _thick,_ you know? It’s maddening,” Draco drawled. “He can’t even get a simple fucking potion right, everyone thinks the Golden Boy is _so fucking brilliant_ but he _isn’t_ he’s just _thick_.”

“Oh for fucks sake Draco,” Pansy finally exclaimed, looking up from her charms homework. “Insult potter, call him an idiot, but for the love of god _please_ _stop calling him thick.”_

“What?” Draco asked. “Why? What’s wrong with calling him thick?”

“It’s a muggle term now, Draco, and it means something else. Just, pick a new insult,” she said, looking back at her charms homework and chewing on her quill, accidentally getting ink on her mouth in the process.

“How would you even know muggle terms? And what does it mean?” Draco asked, curious.

“Marie told me about it,” Pansy said after pulling the quill from her mouth. She saw the ink and realized her mistake, but cleared it from her mouth with a quiet _scourgify_.

“That hufflepuff girl?” Draco questioned. “What were you doing with her?”

“ _What do you think?”_ Pansy asked pointedly and _oh. Right. Sex._ “Anyways, the term thick is used to describe someone with a very nice body, particularly a very nice arse. And you’ve been calling Potter _thick_ for weeks and I can’t fucking take it anymore.”

Draco was silent for a minute, and his cheeks may have flushed a little. “Pansy, clearly I wasn’t meaning it in _that_ sense. I mean, I can’t stand the bloke-” Pansy rolled her eyes, but Draco continued. “Plus, I mean, Potter’s arse probably isn’t even that-”

“What’s that about my arse, Malfoy?”

Draco froze, and Pansy watched his face completely drain of color, and then turn a bright, light pink. Potter had just walked into the common room with the Granger girl, and caught the end of Draco’s rant. He had a light smirk on his face, and stood about a meter away from them, waiting for Draco to explain.

“I, er-” Draco racked his brain for something eloquent or witty to respond, but couldn’t think of a single fucking thing to say.

“Pansy,” said Hermione carefully from beside Harry. “Is that the charms homework? Do you maybe want to go work on it together in the library?”

Pansy, feeling a bit relieved and a bit saddened to get out of her current predicament, closed her book and stood up. “Sure, Hermione.” They walked back out of the common room, leaving Harry still standing a little ways apart from Draco, who was still sitting on the couch completely frozen.

Harry’s smirk widened to a grin as he took Pansy’s previous spot on the couch, opening up one of his text books. “Take your time Malfoy, I’m not in any rush.”

“I was insulting you, Potter,” Draco replied after a few minutes, fighting to keep his voice steady.

“Insulting my arse? That’s low, even for you Malfoy. I happen to have a very nice arse-” Harry was cut off by Malfoy’s groan of exasperation, and Harry had a hard time keeping himself from laughing.

“I was talking about how you fucked up the potion with Slughorn today, and I called you thick,” Draco finally blurted out. “And Pansy informed me of what that means in muggle terminology.”

Harry, knowing full and well what the term thick meant in muggle terminology, decided to play dumb because _this was so fucking fun to watch him squirm._ “Oh? And what does that mean?”

Draco sighed and looked determinedly down at the book in front of him, the tips of his ears turning pink. “It means that you,” he backtracks. “It means that _someone_ has a really nice arse.”

Harry could feel his stomach genuinely _cramping_ from holding in his laughter. “Is that so? Well then I have to admit, the term is fairly accurate, when applied to _me._ ”

“You absolute fucker I wasn’t-” Draco took another deep breath. “I was trying to explain to Pansy I didn’t mean it _like that_ when you walked in.”

“Sure, yeah, of course,” Harry agreed, in a voice that made it _very_ clear that he was not actually agreeing. “Here’s the issue though Malfoy: _you couldn’t possibly be disagreeing, because my arse is phenomenal._ ”

“It is _not_ ,” Draco declared, not taking his eyes off of his book.

“How would you know?” Harry questioned.

Malfoy froze. How would he know? He could either say he had never checked out Potter’s arse and admit that it might be phenomenal, or stand by the fact that it isn’t that great, _thereby admitting the fact that he has, indeed, checked out Potter’s arse._

“Fuck off, Potter.”

“Oh my god, you’re admitting it, _you totally have checked out my arse,_ ” Harry finally burst out laughing, his eyes filling with tears he was laughing so hard. Draco’s face turned impossibly more pink as he started rambling about how that was _entirely unfounded, Potter_ and _there was absolutely no fucking way that I’ve checked out your arse._

Once Harry calmed down enough to be able to talk, he gathered his books and stood up. “Malfoy, you know I’m just messing with you right?” he asked with a grin. “Anyways, I’m heading up to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Draco just kind of nodded, too in shock to do anything else. Harry walked to the stairs that lead up to the dormitories, but paused before going up.

“Oh, and Malfoy?”

Draco looked up from his book for a final time, eyes meeting Harry’s. “Yes?”

“You have a fairly nice arse as well,” Harry said with a cheeky grin, before bounding up the stairs.

Draco stared at the empty space Harry had once occupied for a really long time, unable to move. His brain felt like it was malfunctioning, maybe it was, because Harry fucking Potter hadn’t _really_ just said that had he?

Potter thought that he, Draco Malfoy had a nice arse.

Potter had just admitted that he thought that he, Draco Malfoy, had a nice arse, and in the process _admitted to checking out the previously mentioned arse._

Draco felt light headed.

When Hermione and Pansy returned an hour or so later Draco seemed like he had returned to his reading, but once glance showed Pansy that he hadn’t turned a page since she left him.

Draco hadn’t moved at all, but in his head he was far, far away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short but it didn't quite fit in with the previous chapter, and the next chapter is too long to include it there. Enjoy!

“You’re  _ JOKING _ ?” Pansy exclaimed, eyes wide. Draco shushed her as he lifted a scone from one of the platters in front of them. They were eating at the Slytherin table today, they had been switching between the Slytherin and Gryffindor table ever since Pansy had befriended Hermione. Draco couldn’t face Potter though, not today, so her drug her over to the Slytherin table.

“I honestly wish I were,” Draco admitted, voice low. He had just told Pansy everything that occurred the night before, and to his distaste she let out something that almost resembled a  _ squeal.  _

“He really said that about your arse? Just like that? And then just walked away? Merlin that’s fucking  _ amazing-” _

“It’s not amazing, Pansy! What the bloody hell do I do now? I can’t believe he has the fucking nerve to mess with me like this-”

" _D_ _raco_ ,” Pansy interrupted in a serious tone. “Do you really think he’s just trying to ‘mess with you’?” she asked incredulously. 

Draco felt a small pang in his chest, and a part of him wondered if  _ maybe it meant something more _ , but he pushed the thought away. “Of course he is. What the hell else would he mean by it?”

“For fucks sake, Draco, has it ever occurred to you that maybe you guys have something? Like, romantically?” Pansy pressed. Draco nearly snorted his pumpkin juice, grabbing a napkin to wipe up what he had spilled. 

“ _ Christ,  _ Pansy, we can’t fucking stand each other. Everyone knows that,” he said firmly. Pansy just shrugged.

“Not really.”

“I’m sorry, did you not witness the first six years we spent together at this school?” Draco asked slowly, like Pansy wasn’t intelligent.

“Yeah, but that was  _ before.  _ For the past year, yeah you’ve ranted about Potter, but you guys have been getting along fairly well,” she said, setting her fork back down on her plate. “I’m going to get my stuff for potions, are you coming?”

Draco sighed, and set his silverware down as well. “Yeah, let’s go.” He stood up and walked out of the Great Hall, a million things running through his mind.

 

“I wonder why Pansy and Malfoy are at the Slytherin table today?” Hermione questioned out loud as she, Ron, and Harry sat down to eat breakfast. Ron just shrugged and Harry stayed silent beside him. “She was supposed to help me study for our History of Magic test that’s on Monday.”

“Blimey, I forgot we had that,” said Ron through a mouth full of eggs. Hermione looked at him a tad bit disgusted, but Harry was having trouble focusing on the scene at hand. 

He was focused on a certain Slytherin student eating a scone across the hall.

Hermione took care to not draw attention to how off Harry was acting this morning. She knew  _ something  _ happened with Draco, but she wasn’t quite certain what. Part of her wished she had stuck around, but she knew they needed privacy. 

Anyways, she’d probably get all of the details from Pansy later.


	3. Chapter 3

Potions used to just be Gryffindor and Slytherin combined, but for their eighth year, since there were so few who returned, it was all of the eighth year students together. 

Which would have been fine, but it messed up all of the partners. Before it had been Harry and Ron, Hermione and Neville, Pansy and Draco, Blaise and whatever slytherin girl he was dating at the time. 

But this year, Luna had joined their class. And Luna had quite the affinity for dazing off, which strongly inhibited her potion making talent. Ron, who was one of the few that could almost keep Luna on track, left Harry to be her partner. Hermione switched from Neville to Harry because although Harry was bright, he was disastrous when brewing potions, and nobody is quite certain how, but Neville and Blaise ended up partners. Oddly enough, it was actually a really good pairing. Blaise was never his usual boisterous (and maybe a little cocky) self around Neville, instead he turned into someone with a bit softer of a voice, slowly guiding Neville through the subject he had spent his entire life hating. 

But anyways, the system worked. It worked well. 

But when Harry walked into class, the seat beside Hermione was occupied by none other than Pansy Parkinson.

Her face lit up when she saw him, but she made no attempt to move. “Potter! Hermione and I are quizzing each other for our History of Magic test, you don’t mind pairing up with Draco, do you?”

What could Harry say?  _ Actually, I made a total fool of myself in front of him last night and complimented his arse, so I’d really rather not  _ definitely wouldn’t work. So Harry just slowly nodded and took the seat next to Malfoy, who was focused intently on reading the recipe in his book. 

Harry then thought maybe he should say something to Malfoy about last night, but after considering what he could possibly say, he decided to keep his mouth shut.  _ Sorry I crossed like seven boundary lines last night, I forgot we’re supposed to hate each other with every fiber of our beings?  _ Fat chance that would happen. 

Slughorn got to the front of the classroom and started to drone on about the potion they were brewing that morning, and how well connected he was with the wizard who originally concocted it. Harry tried to listen, but he didn’t exactly care too much about what Slughorn was saying, and it wasn’t until Slughorn had said his name for the third time that he realized he was being asked a question. 

“Er, I’m sorry, what did you say professor?” Harry asked, snapping out of his thoughts. Draco rolled his eyes beside him.

“I said, Mr. Potter, what use does this Draught have in the wizarding world?” Slughorn questioned. Harry looked down as his book, hoping to skim the text as quickly as humanly possibly, but he saw Malfoy’s hand casually rested upon his book, with his finger pointing to the answer. 

“It’s a sleeping aid, sir. Supposed to help with insomnia,” Harry said after reading the sentence. 

“Thank you Mr. Potter, or should I say, thank you Mr. Malfoy for showing Mr. Potter the correct answer,” said Slughorn before turning back to the board. Harry’s face flushed slightly, and he redirected his attention back to the board. 

They started to brew the potion and Harry had just finished stirring it  _ sixteen times counter clockwise _ , when Slughorn asked everyone to pay attention for the next couple minutes as he explained the next few steps. 

“Potter, what the hell did you do,” Draco whispered when Slughorn’s back was turned. 

“What are you talking about Malfoy?” Harry whispered back defensively. 

“Why don’t you take a look around the room and see if your daft mind can pick up what’s different about our potion?” Malfoy hissed. Harry looked around the room at everyone else’s potions, which were currently a lavender purple. 

Harry and Draco’s was lime green. 

“What the hell did you do?” Malfoy repeated, and Harry thought over his steps.

“I don’t fucking know! I added the essence of rotwood, I stirred it sixteen times counter clockwise-”

“Sixteen? You halfwit you were supposed to stir it  _ sixty  _ times-”

“How the hell was I supposed to know-”

“Mr. Potter!” Harry heard his name in a sharp voice from the front of the room. “Perhaps, if you’re done flirting with Mr. Malfoy, I can continue my lesson?”

The class was dead silent and Harry’s face turned bright pink. He should have said  _ sorry, professor,  _ but before he could he heard Malfoy’s voice drawl-

“Honestly, Harry, save it for  _ our  _ bedroom. This isn’t the time or place for that.”

The class looked at Malfoy with shock apparent on their faces. Even Slughorn himself looked uncomfortable. Malfoy, however, just directed his attention back to the board and said “Sorry professor, I swear he has no manners. Carry on.”

Slughorn slowly turned back to the board, trying to remember which step he was on before he was interrupted. Harry was silent, in shock for almost two minutes.

Then, it hit him. 

_ What the absolute fuck. _

Malfoy, essentially, just told the whole class they were a thing.  _ That they were probably having sex, and that Harry was whispering to him about it during class.  _

Oh dear god.

Harry looked over at Ron, who looked slightly green, and like he might be sick. Ron whipped his head to the front as soon as they made eye contact, but before that he was staring, slack jawed at Harry. 

When Slughorn let them go back to their work, the room erupted into chatter again. 

“What the fuck was that Malfoy-” Harry started in a low voice. 

“Payback,” Draco said with a shrug, and a small smirk. “Now you might want to start stirring. You still have to stir counter clockwise forty four more times.”

Harry picked up the spoon, but turned back to Malfoy. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Now everyone thinks we’re, we’re-”

“We’re shagging, yes, I’m glad you’ve caught on Potter. Now stir, counter clockwise, forty four times. We’re already behind.”

Harry, at a loss for words, started to stir the mixture in the cauldron. He focused his mind on counting, trying not to think about what had just happened. After he was done, Draco took over making the rest of the potion. Harry sat on the stool beside him and watched in silence, mind whirling. Harry tried to at least gather the ingredients for Draco, but after he accidentally picked up the wrong vial of dragon marrow for the third time in a row, Malfoy told him to go sit back down with a “Potter, I am going to have to test this, are you trying to kill me?” and Harry finally just gave up. 

It was another hour before the potion was a warm glowing orange. Slughorn went around the room and evaluated each group’s potion, having one from each pairing drink a vial full. When Draco downed theirs and passed out (Harry barely caught him before he hit the floor), Harry felt like he could almost breathe again. This entire class had been entirely too stressful under Malfoy’s watchful eye, and Harry felt like he could finally relax. Slughorn made his way back up to the front of the room after every potion had been assessed, and it wasn’t until then that Dean spotted an issue. 

“Professor, how long does a vial last on someone?” Dean asked, carefully trying to hold Seamus up from the ground. Many others around the room were doing the same. Luna tried to hold Ron up, but he fell to the ground within moments.

“Oh dear um,” Slughorn eyes widened slightly, realizing the problem he had just created. “They last about twelve hours.”

“Professor, what about our classes?” asked Pansy from the back of the room, carefully supporting Hermione who was leaning against her chest. “Hermione might actually kill me if I just made her miss a lesson.”

Pansy looked scared, and from Harry’s knowledge of Hermione, she had every right to be. 

“I, er,” Slughorn looked around the room, trying to decide what to do. “I guess you’ll all have to be excused from your lessons for today.” This seemed to brighten up the entire classroom’s spirits.

“This is a wonderful time to practice your featherlight charms, everyone. Enchant your partners, and see to it that they are placed into their dormitories. Since you won’t be attending class, you will need to stay with your partner until they wake up. I’ll have house elves bring lunch and dinner to your rooms,” Slughorn said.

The class, slightly put out at the fact that they are going to have to hang out all day and watch someone sleep, begrudgingly pulled out their wands and started to charm their partners. Blaise didn’t bother with charming Neville, he just picked him up with ease and carried him off to his dorms. 

Harry charmed Malfoy (not everyone could have Blaise’s strength) and picked him up, bridal style, carrying him out of the classroom. He was almost happy Ron and Hermione were unconscious, at least he wouldn’t have to talk to them about what Malfoy said. 

Not that there was much to say. Malfoy was just messing with him, because of last night. 

When Harry reached Malfoy’s dormitory, it was empty. Blaise shared the room with him, but he was presumably in Harry’s dormitory with Neville. Harry set Malfoy on Blaise’s bed so he could pull back the covers on Malfoy’s bed. He almost put him into bed as he was, but he was still dressed from his classes.

Harry started to take off Malfoy’s shoes carefully (even though being careful probably wasn’t necessary, due to the fact that Malfoy wouldn’t wake up if a bomb went off in the room). After removing his shoes, which were quite nice, probably Italian, Harry tried to get Malfoy’s robes off of him. He loosened his green and silver tie and pulled it off of him gently, and picked him back up and placed him in his own bed. His sheets were a nice soft silk, probably brought from home. Harry placed the comforter over Malfoy, making sure he looked comfortable, and the whole thing felt oddly...domestic. 

And then Harry didn’t know what to do, because he still had eleven hours of Malfoy being asleep. 

He did all of his charms homework he had neglected the night before. He actually read the material for his History of Magic test. He read ahead of what they were covering in his potions class. 

Eventually Harry got up from the floor beside Malfoy’s bed where he had been studying and wandered around the room. He shouldn’t snoop through Malfoy’s stuff, but he was a dick today, so it might be justified. Harry looked above the dresser at the pictures Malfoy had hung up. Some were of him, Pansy, and Blaise, and he looks different than Harry’s ever seen him. He’s smiling, not sneering, and it makes Harry feel a little bit sad that he’s never been like that around him. There are a few more, some of him and his mother. A few had missing ends, like they’d been cut. 

Harry realized after a few minutes that those pictures must have once included his father. He wasn’t sure whether he should feel happy Malfoy has cut his father out of his life, or pity him for losing a dad. Harry never really experienced what it was like to have a father, and it hurt so fucking badly. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have that, and lose it. It must have been awful, even if he was a shitty dad. 

And, after another hour of studying, when Harry starts yawning, he doesn’t even really think about it. He takes off his shoes and his robes and his glasses, and climbs into Malfoy’s bed with him. The sheets looked soft and he looked warm, and Malfoy would never really know, would he? Plus, even if Malfoy did wake up, Harry could just fuck with him about  _ them sharing a bed  _ and  _ this is what you told our potions class we did, right Malfoy?  _ So no harm done, really. They’re barely even touching. 

Within minutes, Harry’s arms are wrapped around Malfoy, and he’s fast asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Blaise was expecting Harry to come back to Neville’s dorm. He was expecting Potter to come in with and unconscious Malfoy, and offer to trade, and then dump Malfoy on his bed and go on with his day.

But Potter didn’t take Draco back to the Gryffindor room. So Blaise was sitting on the bed, confused, with an unconscious Neville in his arms.

He was confused because he really didn’t want to let Neville go. 

He knew that things were different with Neville. He knew that at some point this year, he became a different person when he was around Neville. Someone that more closely represented who he really was. He was softer, less overly cocky. He didn’t feel like he had to prove himself around Neville.

That boy just changed something in Blaise whenever they were together. 

And it wasn’t often that they were. They had potions together twice a week, and it was one of the classes Blaise most looked forward to. And sometimes, when he, Pansy, and Draco ate at the Gryffindor table, he got more time with Neville. Pansy would discuss books with Hermione, and Draco would more often than not be quarreling with Weasley and Potter. Blaise talked to Neville about Herbology, and how his grandmother was, and anything else that Neville found interesting.

And maybe a small part of Blaise suspected, deep down, that what he felt for Neville wasn’t entirely platonic. Suspected, yes, but was never sure.

Now, looking down at him in his arms, Blaise knew it wasn’t platonic at all.

And maybe Neville felt the same way, maybe he didn’t. But Blaise had twelve hours with Neville. And he wasn’t going to waste it.

So he kicked off his shoes, and took off Neville’s, and his robes, and his tie, and he laid him down on the bed, and laid down next to him. And he played softly with his hair, because maybe a small part of him has always wanted to do that. 

And he told him everything, because Neville wouldn’t be able to remember it, and it might be his only chance.

He told Neville that being around him makes him a better person. He told him about his long line of shitty step dads. He told him that he hates all of the money his family has, because it has only made him more miserable. He talked about Neville’s eyes, Neville’s hair, Neville’s courage during the war. He told him how being a Slytherin was great, ambition is great, but it will never top the courage Neville has shown. He talked, and he talked, and he talked. 

And eventually, he fell asleep.

 

Draco Malfoy woke up to a dark room, and a body entangled with his. He almost yelled, but he’s glad he didn’t. 

Draco Malfoy was confused. He was somehow still exhausted, he felt like he had been hit by a truck, and he had no idea how he got back to his room. And the Golden Boy, the Chosen One, the Harry Potter himself was in bed with Draco Malfoy, head on his chest, arms clutching onto him, breaths soft and even. 

It wasn’t until Draco felt a drop of water hit his collarbone that he realized he was crying. 

He carefully extracted one of his hands from between them and quickly wiped the dumb tears away. He almost questioned what the hell had gotten into him, but deep down he already knew.

Draco Malfoy had not been held like this in a really long time. There was that time, back in fourth year, when both he and Pansy were trying to convince themselves they liked the opposite gender, but that wasn’t right, for either of them. 

But  _ this.  _ This was something else entirely. 

After only a moment’s hesitation, Draco threaded his fingers through Harry’s hair with his freed hand, softly combing out the tangles in his messy black hair. Part of Draco wanted to get up and leave, to run away and pretend this never happened, because this was so  _ good.  _ It was good and pure and something Draco just realized he has needed desperately, and he it didn’t want to lose it. 

Draco had not felt this content in years. He wondered how long Potter had been asleep, how long they had been tangled up like this. How long he had left. 

He should sleep, it was the middle of the night and he was exhausted, but he stayed awake for as long as he could. His hand strayed from Harry’s hair, rubbing soft circles down his back.

Harry’s breathing shifted, once, and Draco’s hand froze as he waited for the inevitable. But the boy on his chest didn’t get up, didn’t wake up and yell at him or act disgusted. 

Harry’s breathing paused for a moment, off rhythm, and then he nestled into Draco, just a little closer. Held onto him just a little tighter. Draco breathed a soft sigh of relief, and resumed drawing circles on his back. Harry’s breath evened back out, and everything was okay. Draco had more time. Potter was still asleep.

 

Harry was awake. 

Somehow, he was awake, and Malfoy was awake, and he was  _ fucked.  _ He didn’t open his eyes, or move, he didn’t want to ruin this. Malfoy would ruin this, Harry was probably moments away from getting yelled at, or maybe hexed, but Harry was going to hold onto this for as long as he could. He pulled himself a little closer to Malfoy, tightening his hold on him slightly. Not ready to be torn away from him quite yet. Not wanting to let go.

He waited for Malfoy to break them apart, but instead he heard a soft sigh, and the hand on his back started moving in soothing circles. He felt the body below his relax, and Harry laid there quietly, partially in shock.

Malfoy thought he was asleep, and Malfoy wasn’t pushing him away. In fact, he was doing the opposite, he was  _ holding  _ him. 

The soft circles Malfoy was tracing along Harry’s spine slowly started to lull him back to sleep.

Before Harry completely drifted off, he could have sworn he felt a pair of lips brush against his forehead.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry was the first of the pair to wake up the next morning, and he carefully, slowly, attempted to disentangle himself from the blond boy without waking him. Once he did so, he slipped back on his shoes and his robes, and slipped out of the dormitory. God he was so fucked. He was so,  _ so _ , fucked.

But at least Malfoy never knew he woke up. Malfoy didn’t know Harry was all too aware of the way they fitted up against each other perfectly, or the way his fingertips felt as they drifted across his back. Malfoy didn’t know he was awake for that.

When Harry walked into the Great Hall to meet his friends for breakfast, he felt like all eyes were on him. He felt his chest tighten as he made his way to the Gryffindor table. How could they know? Had Blaise come back last night, seen them, and told everyone? He could hear the whispers of his name, and he found it hard to breathe.

He was nearly at the table when it hit him.  _ They were whispering because of what Malfoy said in Slughorn’s class yesterday. _ Harry felt a sigh of relief, and then froze when he realized that they don’t know they slept in the same bed last night.  _ They actually think they’re shagging. _

Harry wasn’t really sure which one was worse.

He plopped down between Ron and Neville, both of whom looked a little pale. He had barely even bitten into his pastry when he heard from Ron, “Please, for the love of Merlin,  _ tell me you aren’t shagging Malfoy. _ ”

Harry choked on the pastry for almost a full fifteen seconds.

“Jesus Christ Ron, I’m not fucking Malfoy,” Harry blurted as soon as he could speak. Ron, however, did not look convinced. 

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I think I’d know,” said Harry dryly. 

“Then why’d he say that in Slughorn’s yesterday? He made it sound like-”

“He was pissed at me,” Harry explained. “So he made our potions class think we were screwing just to fuck with me I guess, and now I’m assuming the whole school knows?”

“Pretty much,” said Ron, grabbing the last of the pastries from the platter. “Why was he pissed at you?”

“When isn’t he pissed at me?” Harry asked, avoiding the real reason. Ron, mouth full of pastry, just hummed in agreement. Harry tried to steer the conversation away from him and Malfoy. “So how are you feeling, after the whole potion thing?”

“Blimey that stuff knocked me the fuck out,” said Ron uneasily. “I woke up in the Ravenclaw common room in a pair of  _ nargle glasses  _ and a fucking  _ flower crown _ . I swear to Merlin, I’m making Luna take the next potion. A  _ flower crown _ , Harry!”

Harry laughed at the thought of it, and then turned to Neville. “What about you, Neville? Are you feeling alright?”

Neville jumped when Harry addressed him, nearly spilling his juice. “What? Why?”

“I, er,” Harry hesitated, a bit bewildered by his response. “I was just making sure Blaise took care of you after potions?”

“He, um,” Neville paused. “He was great Harry, no issues here, I feel great.”

Harry hesitated, because Neville was acting even weirder than normal, but decided to let it go. He turned his attention back to his breakfast, only stopping once every few minutes to glance at the Slytherin table, but Malfoy’s seat remained empty for almost the entirety of breakfast.

 

Neville was spinning out.

Neville, believe it or not, had never exactly been popular. Not among the school, not with the ladies, not with  _ anyone.  _

But this morning. This morning, Neville woke up in the arms of someone who was popular. Someone that was strong and smart and interesting, someone that could get any girl (or guy) he wanted.

He thought he was dreaming at first. But his dreams were never that realistic, and typically involved him forgetting his classwork or messing up a potion back in Snape’s class. They were never like this. 

They never included strong, tan arms around him, and the feeling of being  _ warm _ , and god, he smelled so good, and Neville almost couldn’t bring himself to leave.

But then he realized, Blaise probably never meant to be there. Blaise probably dumped Neville on his bed, went out for a couple of firewhiskeys, and came back to the dorm too drunk to tell which bed was empty. So Neville slipped out of his arms and made it down to the Great Hall, and decided to pretend it never happened. But he was in a daze all morning, and he couldn’t think straight. 

 

Both Blaise and Draco woke up alone. Well rested, but confused, and alone. They ran into each other in the corridor outside the Great Hall, each looking equally dishevelled. They murmured hellos to each other, and entered the hall, both determinedly looking at the Slytherin table, not daring to glance over towards the Gryffindors.

They were Slytherins. No one ever said they had to be brave.

When they finally sat down, a fifth year girl tapped impatiently on Draco’s shoulder. “So is it true?”

“Is what true?” Draco asked, spreading some jam onto his toast.

“Are you really shagging Potter?” The girl asked. Draco was sure not to let his expression change at all, but the knife in his hand faltered slightly.

“And why would you assume that?” He asked, trying to keep his voice light. 

“Don’t play dumb Malfoy, I heard you told your potions class that you were shagging Potter. So is it true?”

Merlin, Slughorn’s class felt like weeks ago, not a mere twenty four hours. Draco took a bite of the toast and chewed slowly, making the girl wait. He finally swallowed, managed a smile, and confirmed, “Yeah, it’s true.”

He already fucked with Potter. What the hell is he doing?

He took another bite of toast, and he and Blaise ate in silence. Pansy was nowhere to be seen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos if you liked it, and comment your thoughts! I'd love to hear what you guys have to say about this, it motivates me to write more. :)


	6. Chapter 6

Time passed slowly, the next two days. Classes were mostly dull, and the rumor about Draco and Harry had been replaced with better gossip. Harry took great care to avoid Malfoy in the corridors and during meals, but didn’t have any classes with him. He and Ron spent the morning making up a plethora of horrors that they were in store for (Trelawny had returned as a divination teacher, so of course, their ridiculous predictions about all of the misfortunes they would encounter returned as well). 

Harry had been feeling better, and the dread inside of him only returned as he and Ron made their way towards the dungeons for their second potions class that week. 

“You alright mate?” Ron asked as they neared the classroom. Harry nodded, walked through the entrance and his worst fears were confirmed. 

Pansy was sitting in Harry’s seat again. 

He wasn’t going to argue with her (although Pansy had always been pleasant to him, he had heard the rumors of what she could do), so he just set his books on the counter and sat beside Malfoy.

Malfoy made no acknowledgement of Harry’s arrival, just continued to copy the ingredients onto his notebook in beautiful cursive. Harry found himself staring at Malfoy’s hands, at the fingers that, a couple nights ago, had been tracing up and down his back.

“Problem, Potter?” Malfoy sneered, and before Harry could respond, Slughorn walked in. Harry just sunk down further into his seat, looking anywhere other than at the boy beside him. 

Harry thought about the pictures of Malfoy smiling above his dresser. 

He wondered what it would take to make him smile like that. 

Slughorn gave his introduction and started them off with making the antidotes to Monday’s potion. It was complex, more complex than any potion Harry had ever seen, and the fact that he had to attempt it with Malfoy made him a bit sick. Potions  _ really  _ weren’t his strong suit.

Harry nearly ruined their potion beyond repair three times. Each time, Malfoy had mocked him, called him incompetent, and spent twice the amount of time undoing his mistake, muttering insults under his breath. 

The fourth time, Malfoy just looked exasperated. “ _ You have got to be kidding me, _ ” he sighed, pulling the ingredients from Harry’s hands. “You know I get you’re pissed at me because everyone thinks we’re shagging, but you don’t have to try and purposefully ruin my average in my best class.”

“What?” Harry asked, taken aback. “Malfoy, I’m not trying to  _ sabotage  _ our potion.”

“Shut up Potter, don’t even try to deny it. Nobody is  _ this  _ incompetent-” Draco’s voice cut off when he saw the look on Harry’s face, and a wave of regret washed over him. Potter wasn’t trying to fuck up the potion on purpose. He really was this bad at brewing potions. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied lamely. “I’ll just, sit down and watch. It’ll probably be easier if I’m not in your way.” His voice was a little hollow as he took a step back, sitting down on the wooden stool. 

“No, I, er,” Draco hesitated. “I can help you, show you what you’re doing wrong. You’re supposed to be slicing the boiled nymph eggs, not mincing them. Look.” Harry got up and stood next to Draco as he demonstrated the way they were supposed to cutting the nymph eggs. Draco handed the knife to Potter and watched as he tried to copy what Draco had done, and he wasn’t half bad at it. “See? It’s not that hard, you just need to know what you’re doing,” Draco said with a proud smile.

Harry smiled back, face flushing a little as he slid the eggs into the cauldron.

He had done it. He had gotten a real, genuine, Draco Malfoy smile.

“You should do that more,” Harry said casually as he crushed some bogwood with the side of his knife.

“Tell you what you’re doing wrong?” Draco questioned, confused. “Potter, apparently you haven’t been listening, because I constantly tell you what you’re doing wrong.”

“No, I just meant,” Harry paused, adding the last ingredient to the cauldron before picking up his book. “You should smile more. You have a really nice smile.”

Harry didn’t stop to see Malfoy’s reaction, just headed out the door as the last bell rang. Draco was grateful he did so, because Potter had missed the way his face had turned pink, and he had to fight from breaking out into a full on grin. 

  
  


Neville made his way for the door the second the bell rang, desperate to get out of potions class. Blaise had been great the entire time, helping Neville with the potion and everything, but more disturbingly:  _ he made absolutely no mention of the other night.  _ None! Maybe he was so drunk he didn’t remember it. Maybe he did remember it, and was purposefully pretending it didn’t happen. Either way, Neville couldn’t bear to be around him for another second. 

“Hey, Longbottom!” 

Blaise Zabini’s voice rang through the dungeon corridors, there was no way Neville could pretend he didn’t hear him, so he stopped, turned around, and waited until Zabini caught up to him. Blaise jogged a couple steps to get to him, and, once stopping less than a half of a meter away from him, gave Neville a dazzling smile. 

“Hey,” he said softly, a little out of breath. Neville felt a little out of breath too, but certainly not from running.

“Hi,” Neville responded with a small smile.

“You forgot this,” Blaise said, handing Neville his potion book. Neville’s cheeks flushed slightly. 

“Oh, sorry I-”

“Do you want to go get a drink with me tonight?” Blaise cut his apology off accidentally.

“What?” Neville asked, a bit confused.

“I’m heading to Hogsmeade tonight. Draco doesn’t feel like going out and Pansy’s studying with Hermione and I just, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go grab a pint with me?”

The corridor had cleared at this point and Neville was relieved that nobody else was there to witness just how long it took Neville to piece together what Blaise was saying. 

_ Drinks. Blaise wants to go out to get drinks.  _

“Yes,” Neville said decidedly, after an embarrassingly long minute. “I would- yes.”

“Brilliant,” Blaise said, breaking out into a grin. “I’m going to go put my stuff up and get changed. Meet me outside the Great Hall in an hour?”

“Okay,” Neville said faintly. Blaise smiled and started off down the corridor, and Neville stood frozen, staring down the empty hall for a full two minutes. 

And then, his brain pieced together what was happening.

_ And then Neville Longbottom freaked the fuck out.  _

He practically sprinted up the flights of stairs, through the corridors, and up the stairs into his dorm. He threw his potion books on the bed and immediately began looking frantically through his closet for  _ anything decent _ to wear and  _ fuck he still needed to shower _ , and it wasn’t until Neville heard Ron repeat his name twice that he realized how crazy he must look. 

“Neville, are you alright?” Ron finally asked. Ron looked bewildered, sitting on his bed across from Harry, with a deck of cards between them. Harry, also, was staring at Neville with the same confused expression. 

“Oh!” Neville said quickly. “I er, I need to be somewhere soon and I still have to shower and get ready. I’m fine, just in a hurry.”

“Hot date?” Harry jokingly questioned. Ron had already lost interest after Neville’s lame explanation for his odd behavior, and had turned back to his cards.

Neville froze again, and Harry’s eyes widened because  _ Merlin, was Neville really going on a date? _

“No. Nope. It’s not a date. Not a date. At all. I’m grabbing a drink with Zambini. As friends. Because he’s a dude. It is Not A Date,” Neville blurted out, still internally panicking. Ron just shrugged, and nudged Harry to put down a card. Harry looked at Neville for another moment or two, realization hitting him, and then finally smiled and looked back down at his cards. 

“That sounds great Neville, have fun,” Harry said, putting a card down. He looked up a moment later, wondering while Neville was still rooted to his spot. “Don’t you need to go shower?”

Neville jumped a bit. “Right!” He grabbed a sweater and some dark jeans out of his closet and ran back out the door.

Neville calmed slightly once he was in the shower, picking a nice smelling shampoo and letting the hot water calm his nerves a bit. Once out, he got changed into the clothes he had brought, fiddling for several minutes in front of the mirror with his hair. He looked about as good as he possibly could, not that that soothed his insecurities in the slightest.

“It’s not a date,” he quietly told his reflection. “It’s just butterbeer. Just two lads out grabbing a pint. Not a date. He isn’t even gay.”

After repeating that a couple dozen more times, he went out to the Great Hall, heart pounding in his chest. Blaise was leaning against the entryway, fiddling with his shirt sleeves. He was in a light blue button up, but the sleeves had been rolled to his elbows, and a dark pair of jeans. When he looked up and saw Neville his face lit up, and he smiled. 

“Hey! Ready to go?”

“Sure,” Neville said softly. They walked out of the castle side by side and Blaise chatted idly as they walked towards Hogsmeade, appearing not to notice Neville’s discomfort. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave kudos and comment!!! :)


	7. Chapter 7

The second Neville was gone, Harry threw all his cards down onto the bed.

“Mate, what the hell are you doing, now I know you have-”

“Ron!” Harry exclaimed, cutting him off. He lowered his voice, looking towards the door. “Ron, I think Neville is going on a date with _Zabini.”_

“You’ve got to be mental,” Ron laughed, setting his cards down as well. “Neither of them are gay, Harry, it isn’t a date.”

“How do you know Neville isn’t gay?” Harry challenged, using his wand to wave the door shut so they wouldn’t have to whisper.

“Because, well, er-” Ron paused, a look of concentration on his face as he tried to come up with a reason. “He would have told us, right?”

“Do you really think he would have?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Why not? We’re a fairly accepting lot-”

“Ron, do you remember your reaction when you thought I was shagging Malfoy? Do you really think _Neville_ would want to face that, from anyone?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

“But I mean, he wouldn’t-” Ron thought it over. “Oh fuck, actually, he would expect that from us.”

“Exactly.”

“But Zabini? He’s exclusively dated girls for _years,_ Harry. No way he’s gay. And if he is, I doubt he’d want to date _Neville-”_

“Ron,” Harry said in a warning tone.

“Sorry, I forgot.”

Ron, Harry, Dean, and Seamus had decided at the beginning of their eighth year that they were all going to made an effort to be nicer to Neville. It wasn’t that they had mistreated him before, but they definitely could have been nicer at times.

“I still think it’s a date. Or that Neville likes him, at least,” Harry declared.

“Want to find out?” Ron asked, eyes lighting up. “We could take the cloak.”

“And spy on their date?” Harry asked. “Ron, that’s _wrong-”_

“Oh come on, we can take the cloak. We never do anything sneaky anymore. Not that I don’t love this whole Voldemort-free world, but I miss acting out a bit.”

“How would we do it?”

“Neville’s in the shower, we can leave now. We won’t even need the cloak until later. We can go to Hogsmeade, the Three Broomsticks, and when they come in, we’ll put on the cloak and sit near them. Then we can figure out if it’s a date.”

Harry grinned, and jumped off of the bed, reaching into his trunk for the cloak. He paused as he threw it into his bag. “Wait. Why are we doing this? Does it really matter that much?”

“Would you rather sit around and play cards for the rest of the night?” Ron asked.

“God no,” Harry said. He threw his bag on his shoulder and he and Ron headed down the stairs, through the castle, across the grounds, and, eventually, arrived at the Three Broomsticks. Now, all they had to do was wait.

  


“I mean, clearly Healy is the better seeker _now_ , but I think if Portillo really put her mind to it she could-”

“Hey, what can I getcha?” the bartender asked as she made her way towards Neville and Blaise. Blaise looked at Neville and raised an eyebrow and Neville, relieved to finally be able to contribute something to the conversation, asked the bartender for _two butterbeers, please._

“What was I saying? Oh right so anyway I think Portillo-” Blaise started to continue, but then cut off at Neville’s expression. “I’m sorry, I’ve been talking about quidditch for the past ten minutes. I get a little carried away with it sometimes.”

“You’re fine!” Neville exclaimed, a bit too loudly, and then lowered his voice. “Don’t worry I’m used to it, Harry never shuts up about it.”

Harry, brooding only slightly under the cloak, made note to jinx Neville and talk about quidditch until he ran out of words.

The waitress brought Neville and Blaise their drinks and Blaise asked Neville about his classes this year, and what he’s planning on doing after they finished school. Neville told him all about the Herbology class he was in at the moment and how he would like to be an herbology professor, and he got so into telling him about it that he realized after they both had finished their drinks he had been going on about it for longer than Blaise had talked about quidditch.

“Sorry, me and herbology is kind of like you and quidditch,” Neville apologised, as Blaise flagged down the bartender for two more drinks.

“Don’t be, it’s kinda cute,” Blaise said with a laugh, nodding to the bartender in thanks for the new round of drinks.

Neville was very happy he didn’t have a drink when Blaise said that, because he most certainly would have choked.

“So what about you?” Neville asked, after taking a large sip of butterbeer. The more he drank, the easier it was to be in his current situation. He was aiming for at least tipsy. “What do you want to do after school?”

Zabini shrugged, taking a sip of his butterbeer. “Honestly? No idea. Mum wants me to go get a job in the ministry, but that’s just because she’s burning through her ex-husband's money faster than she can find a new one. I haven’t got a bloody clue what I want to be, but I certainly don’t want to do that.”

“You should just take a year off,” Neville suggested. “Travel. Try a bunch of different jobs. You don’t have to jump into a career.”

“I can’t-” Blaise looked at him incredulously. “I can’t do that. Could you imagine what people would say?”

“Probably that you’re taking a gap year?” Neville suggested, confused. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I’m supposed to have this figured out already,” Blaise said quietly, looking down at his drink. “I’ve been telling everyone I have it figured out, I keep telling everyone I want to be part of the ministry-”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Neville pointed out.

“Yeah, well, you’re different,” Blaise mumbled, taking another sip of butterbeer. Neville, not knowing what to say back to that, took a long sip from his own, which was almost empty already. Blaise still had two thirds of a glass left.

“You should take a gap year, if you want to,” Neville said finally, bringing himself back to their conversation. The waitress came by and took his empty glass, and Neville quietly asked her for a double of firewhiskey. Blaise raised an eyebrow at him, and Neville flushed slightly.

“I didn’t think you were a heavy drinker, Longbottom? You’ve already had two butterbeers, and now a double of firewhiskey?” Blaise, as soon as it came out of his mouth, immediately regretted it. It felt rude, somehow, like he was accusing him of drinking too much.

Neville quietly took the glass from the waitress, not daring to meet Blaise’s eyes. “‘M’not a heavy drinker,” he mumbled, but countered his words by taking a sip from the glass in front of him, feeling the heat burn as it ran down his throat.

“Okay,” Blaise said softly, watching the boy in front of him. “I’m sorry, that was out of line.” He secretly wondered if Neville actually had a drinking problem and he didn’t know, and he was running through all sorts of terrible scenarios in his head when-

“You make me nervous,” Neville mumbled, taking another sip of the drink. He was started to feel tipsy now, _finally, thank merlin,_ and was getting up the courage to speak a little more.

“What?” Blaise questioned, confused.

“You make me nervous. I’m not good with people in general but I’m really not good with you and I’m drinking because I need to because _you make me nervous_ ,” Neville hated the words as they came out of his mouth, wanted to take them back, but he couldn’t. He waited for Blaise to ask why he made Neville nervous and Neville tried to prepare himself to say anything besides _I have a massive crush on you,_ but the question why never came. Instead:

“Since when?”

Since when. Since when was he nervous around Blaise? He didn’t used to be. Blaise used to be one of the few people Neville felt comfortable around. It wasn’t until- _oh._ It wasn’t until Neville woke up in bed with him, that he let himself think about Blaise like that. That’s when the nerves started.

But Neville most certainly couldn’t tell him that.

“Since always,” he lied, dodging Blaise’s eyes and taking another sip of his drink.

“No, not since always,” Blaise said, eyebrows furrowed as he looked searchingly at Neville. “We had potions together, we were _good,_ did I do something-” _wrong._ The word cut off in his throat as he realized the only thing that had changed. He _had_ done something wrong. This was his fault. He fucked up things between them. “Fuck, Neville, I’m sorry about the other day. I truly am, I shouldn’t have done it I just-” Blaise stopped, because he couldn’t justify what he had done, at all. How could he justify crawling into his bed and tangling the boy up in his arms? How could he possibly think that he and Neville could just ignore that, that they could go back to the way before?

“It’s fine,” Neville said firmly, eyes fixed on the table. “”Clearly you made a mistake and got in the wrong bed on accident, and you probably regret it, and you surely were drunk or something, I get it, and it’s fine.”

_Blaise probably got in the wrong bed?_

“Neville, I wasn’t _drunk_ ,” Blaise said incredulously, eyes showing disbelief. “I didn’t crawl into the wrong bed-”

“Clearly you did, because there’s no way on Earth that you’d-” Neville’s voice broke, and he hated the sound of it. _There’s no way you’d pick that bed on purpose,_ was all he could think. He stood up, pulled some galleons out of his bag and put them on the bar. He grabbed his drink, downed the rest of it, and set it back down on the bar with a soft thud. “I’ll see you later Blaise. Thanks for inviting me to drinks.”

Neville, not pausing to see Blaise’s response, quickly weaved his way through the crowded bar and out the door, wondering how the hell things had gone so poorly.

Harry and Ron looked at each other in astonishment as Blaise sat there for a minute, stunned. Blaise then downed the last of his beer, and went to go find Neville.

 

 

“ _Bloody hell, that was insane,”_ Ron exclaimed as soon as they were gone, pulling the cloak off. “Merlin, they really are a thing? Or at least they were, I’m not sure about now-”

“Blaise did say they were in bed together, right?" Harry asked, himself in disbelief. “I didn’t hear that wrong?”

“God do you think they’re shagging?” Ron asked with a gasp, looking back towards the door like it held the answer to his question.

“I don’t think so. I think Blaise just slept with him, _not like that,_ after potions that one day and now they’re all weird-”

“Blimey, do you think we should follow them?” Ron asked, looking towards the door again.

“God no, if I have to be cramped under that cloak with you and your _onion breath_ for one more minute, I’ll lose it. Where the hell did you even find something with onions in it?” Harry asked in disgust, and Ron broke out into a large grin.

“I had to be prepared, just in case we faced a situation that required us under that damn cloak again,” Ron said with a smug look.

“You owe me a firewhiskey,” Harry muttered bitterly and Ron laughed, going to grab them some drinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to add in some Harry & Ron shenanigans, because I'll be damned if Ron Weasley gets shoved to the side in this fanfic. Hope you're enjoying it! Please leave kudos/comments. :)


	8. Chapter 8

“NEVILLE,” Blaise yelled when he finally spotted the boy, about twenty meters away. They were closer to Hogwarts than Hogsmeade at this point, but not quite at the castle yet. 

Blaise ran to catch up with him, regretting the beer that sloshed uncomfortably in his stomach as he ran. Neville, pretending not to hear him, continued to trudge up toward the castle.

“Merlin’s beard,  _ Neville,” _ Blaise gasped out as he finally caught up with him, and Neville begrudgingly turned to face him. 

“ _ What, Blaise?” _

Zabini took a couple of deep breaths, doubling over slightly.  _ God, he needed to run more, he was terribly out of shape. _

“Look, I’m  _ sorry,  _ okay? I’m sorry you don’t feel that way about me, and I never should have gotten in your bed when you couldn’t say no, that was really fucked up of me to do, and I promise things don’t have to be weird, okay? I won’t do it again, we can just go back to normal if that’s what you want-”

“You’re joking, right? God I know everyone else loves to mess with me, but I thought, I thought you were different-”

“Merlin, Neville, would you fucking  _ listen  _ to me?” Blaise interrupted him, voice rising a little out of frustration. Neville looked back at him, frown faltering slightly as a confused look swept over his face.

“I just don’t understand why you’d-”

“ _ I like you, Neville, _ ” Zabini blurted, sighing exasperatedly. “I’m  _ sorry  _ if that makes things weird. I just, I wasn’t  _ messing  _ with you.”

“You like me?” Neville was confused. He was confused and his brain wasn’t working, maybe due to the cold or the boy in front of him or everything he was hearing. Blaise  _ liked  _ him. “You can’t like  _ me.  _ I’m, I’m just-”

Blaise, taking a leap of faith, closed the gap between them, leaning down and pressing his lips against Neville’s. After a moment Blaise started to doubt himself, started to pull away, but Neville wrapped his arms around him, keeping him in place and  _ oh.  _ Neville was kissing him back fiercely and it was warm and  _ good _ and everything that either of them could ever want. 

When their lips separated, foreheads still touching, they both grinned broadly at each other. Blaise offered his arm, and Neville took it, and they headed back to the castle together.  

  
  
  


“You’re shitfaced,” Ron proclaimed loudly, slamming his empty mug down on the table with a loud  _ thud.  _ “Absolutely pissed. Hammered.  _ Wasted.” _

“So are you!” Harry retorted defensively, face reddened, hair wild. “We’re both  _ smashed _ . Why did we think this was a good idea?”

“Oh piss off,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “After the week we’ve had? We’ve earned this.”

“What we’ve earned will be a massive fucking hangover tomorrow morning,” Harry lamented, head falling to the table in front of him. They were two drinks past  _ one too many _ at this point, but things were still good. 

“Last call mate,” A bartender said to Ron, who sighed dramatically. “We’re closing up soon.”

“Oh god Harry, we have to  _ walk back to the castle,”  _ Ron cried, look on his face absolutely distraught. 

“No,” Harry said, horrified. “Oh Merlin, no, fuck,  _ no.” _

“It can’t be that hard,” Ron said with an inkling of hope lining his features. “We can do this.” Ron swayed on the barstool slightly, and looked up at the bartender desperately. “Reni, we can do this, right?”

The bartender didn’t answer, just laughed, which didn’t make the boys feel any better at all.

The boys pulled some galleons out of their pockets and gave them to Reni, letting him count out what he needed and give them their change (the boys weren’t going to attempt to count them on their own, because Merlin, there was no way they could do it in this state).

Harry and Ron stumbled toward the door and looked dubiously out into the street, glowing under the light of the streetlamps.

“We fought Voldemort,” Harry whispered, pulling his cloak more tightly around him for warmth. “We can make it back to the castle.”

Ron swallowed with difficulty, thinking that he might rather take on the Dark Lord and a thousand giants alone, than try to make it back to the castle. “We fought Voldemort,” Ron repeated quietly, taking a brave step out onto the street. 

The boys slowly worked their way home, stumbling and laughing through the empty town.

  
  


When Harry and Ron quietly attempted to tackle the stairs up to their dormitory, they had barely cracked open the door when they heard Neville and Zabini’s voices, coming from the room in front of them.

“Oh fuck no,” Ron whispered to Harry as they hid behind the door. “I’m not going in there and seeing whatever the hell they’re doing. I’ll take the couch in the common room.” Ron stumbled down the stairs, sticking to the wall as carefully as possible, trying not to fall.

“Where the hell am I going to go?” Harry asked once they both made it down, a full three minutes later. 

Ron shrugged and flopped on the couch, pulling a blanket over him. “Just take Zabini’s bed mate.”

Harry nearly protested, but it wouldn’t have done him any good, because Ron Weasley was out cold.

  
  
  


That night, after dinner, Draco laid on his bed reading, it was probably around eleven or so. Blaise was down in the common room, talking to the Longbottom boy again, so it was just him. 

And it was nice, being alone. The book he was reading was interesting and it was quiet without Blaise’s snoring and Draco was content. And when someone knocked on the door, well, it hadn’t occurred to Draco that it would be anyone but Blaise. It also hadn’t occurred to him that Blaise never really knocked. So Malfoy was, but shouldn’t have been, surprised when he flung open the door to find Harry Potter on the other side. 

Harry Potter, eyes far away, swaying in his doorway, unable to take his gaze off Malfoy’s bare chest. 

Draco fought the urge to wrap his arms around his bare torso. “What are you doing here, Potter?”

“Blaise and Neville are in my room,” Harry said softly, swaying just a tad in the doorway. 

“And?” Draco prompted.

“Malfoy, Blaise and Neville are  _ in my room. Together _ ,” Harry repeated. Draco looked at him, bewildered, and then  _ oh. Oh god.  _ Harry nodded once the look of realization hit Draco’s face. “There it is,” Harry said, pushing past Malfoy into the room. 

Draco was so taken aback by the development of Neville and Blaise, he almost didn’t notice how Harry was still swaying. “Er, Potter?”

“Yeah, Malfoy?” Harry asked, spending much longer than required trying to undo the top button of his shirt.

“Where were you, before you came back to your dorm?” Malfoy asked carefully. Harry, finally succeeding in getting the button undone, smiled. 

“Hogsmeade, Malfoy! The Three Broomsticks, specifically,” he said in a jolly tone, working on the second button.

“Merlin, Harry, you’re  _ plastered _ ,” Malfoy sighed exasperatedly, everything finally clicking into place.

“I didn’t drink  _ that  _ much,” Harry argued, still working on the second button. “Boy these sure are tricky.”

Draco sighed and, letting the door swing shut behind him, walked up to Harry and swatted his hands away from the shirt. “Let me do it, you idiot,” he whispered, not letting himself meet Harry’s stare. He unfastened each of the buttons on Harry’s shirt, trying to ignore the torso that became more and more visible as he went. Harry smiled and pulled off the dress shirt, moving on to take off his shoes.

“Do you have any extra pajamas, Malfoy?” Harry asked, nearly losing his balance as he pulled his shoe off. Harry grabbed onto the bed to steady himself, and Malfoy guided him to sit down before grabbing a pair of pajama pants. Harry watched as Malfoy removed his other shoe. “You know, I just did this for you,” Harry says lightly, not taking his eyes off of the boy in front of him. “I took off your shoes and put  _ you  _ in bed.”

“Did you now?” Malfoy hummed, guiding Harry back into a standing position to get off his slacks. “How did that go?” Malfoy asked, trying to keep his tone light and mind distracted and he unbuttoned Harry’s trousers. 

“It went okay,” Harry said softly, sitting back down on the bed after Malfoy had worked his slacks below his hips. “I like your shoes.”

Draco smiled as he lifted Potter’s feet off of the ground to get the trousers off. “Potter, I’m not wearing any shoes.”

Harry looked down at Malfoy’s feet. “Well you  _ were _ . And they were nice. Very pretty. Pretty pretty shoes.”

Draco didn’t look at him, just focused on getting Potter’s feet into the legs of the pajamas. Once he finally got them into place he tried to pull Harry back into a standing position. “C’mon Potter, work with me here. Stand up,” Draco whispered softly, tugging on him gently. Harry complied, standing as Draco pulled up the pajama bottoms. Draco’s hands slightly, accidentally, grazed Potter’s arse, and Draco cringed a bit. That was not what he had wanted to do. 

“ _ See? _ ” said Harry with a large grin. “I  _ told  _ you it’s a fantastic arse.”

Draco rolled his eyes and pulled back the comforter, guiding Harry carefully into his bed. “Yeah, it’s phenomenal Potter.”

“I wasn’t messing with you, either,” Harry said, curling up into the fluffy comforter. “You really do have a nice arse as well Malfoy. Not that I’m objecting you,” Harry said smartly. 

“The word you’re looking for is  _ objectifying,  _ Potter,” Draco whispered, pointedly ignoring his comment, glad Potter couldn’t see him blush in the darkness. Draco tucked the blanket around Harry a little tighter, and then went over to lay on Blaise’s bed.

A couple minutes passed in silence, and Draco thought Potter might have finally fallen asleep, when he heard his voice again. 

“Draco?” Harry’s voice was hardly a whisper, sounding unsure. Draco didn’t respond for a moment, shocked Potter had used his first name. 

“Yes?” he whispered back, staring at the mass of blankets across from him. 

“Can you, er,” Harry paused, and his voice became even quieter. “Can you rub my back like you did the other night?”

Draco froze. “You were awake for that?”

“Mhmm,” confirmed Harry quietly, sounding almost child-like. “I pretended I wasn’t because I didn’t want you to stop.”

Draco felt his heart constrict, thinking back to the other night.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to,” Harry whispered again into the dark room. Draco sighed and stood up, walking across to his own bed. 

“Scooch over,” Draco whispered, nudging Harry slightly. Harry scooted over to the very edge, and then, once Draco climbed in, scooted back close to him, latching onto him like a few nights before. 

“Thank you,” Harry whispered into Draco’s chest with a small sigh of content, nestling his head into the crook of Draco’s neck. Draco slowly, hesitantly, brought his hand back up to Harry’s hair, once again combing through the tangles. Harry hummed softly in gratitude, and faintly pressed his lips against Draco’s collarbone. Draco felt his heart constrict again. 

Draco pressed his lips against Harry’s forehead, and then let his hand fall from his hair to rub circles on the shorter boy’s back, once again. His skin was bare, and warm, and Draco spent almost an hour just taking everything in. Potter’s bare skin pressed against his, the way he smelled like cinnamon and bonfire smoke, the way he tangled himself up in Draco, entwining their limbs with ease. Just, taking in  _ him.  _

After a while, Draco fell asleep along with Harry, their chests rising and falling together in sync. Blaise walked in after a few hours, but, noticing the pair, slowly made his way back into Neville’s room. 

Harry and Draco both slept through the night, content and warm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait to update this, but I have terrible self control.


	9. Chapter 9

 

Sunlight shone through the window beside Malfoy’s bed and Harry groaned, turning his face away from the light and burying it underneath Malfoy’s shoulder.

“Oh dear god I feel like I’m dying,” he murmured, barely comprehensible under both Malfoy and a pile of blankets.

“Go back to sleep you git, I’m trying to sleep,” Malfoy mumbled, pulling Harry into him a little tighter.

“My brain hurts,” Harry protested, but tried to go back to sleep anyway. Malfoy was wrapped around him, and Harry was warm and cozy and content.

But also, he felt like a jackhammer was pounding into his skull.

“Potter you’ve had some remarkably low moments, but you depriving me of sleep on a Saturday morning is by far the lowest,” Draco said, in response to Harry skimming his fingers up and down his arms.

“Sorry,” Harry whispered, letting his hands fall back down to the bed.

“No, keep doing it. It felt nice, and I’m already awake now,” Malfoy said, shaking his arms for a moment to draw Harry’s attention back to them.

Harry lightly grazed his fingertips against Malfoy’s wrist, gently following the light blue lines on his pale skin, further and further up.

It wasn't until Harry had brushed his fingers over the dark mark that he realized his mistake.

The boy beside him went rigid, suddenly frozen and tense. He jerked his arm away, and Harry let him, for a moment. Then he slowly reached out, pulled his arm back, and began traced the lines again at his wrist, where it was safe.

Draco was silent for a really long time.

“It won't-” his voice broke and he stopped, took a breath, and tried again. “I tried everything. It won't fucking come off.”

Harry grazed his fingertips higher and higher, not quite touching the mark. Not wanting to push him. “That's okay.”

“Are you mental? It's not fucking okay, I fucking hate it-” Draco cut off abruptly, realizing he was sharing more than he intended to.

Harry just grazed his fingertips higher, barely skimming the edge of the dark ink.

“Don't.” Malfoy’s voice was firm, unyielding.

Harry pulled his fingers away lightly, just a few centimeters from where they had been. “Why?”

“I don't-” Draco’s voice sounded different, unsure and broken and Harry hated it. “I don't want you to think of that,” Draco whispered quietly. “I don't want you to think of that when you see me.”

Harry was silent, tracing the skin around the mark, but not daring to touch it.

“I have a scar. From Voldemort,” Harry said, and Malfoy flinched when he said the name. “You have a tattoo. It's not that different. It’s okay.”

Draco was somewhere between wanting to scream and cry because Harry just didn't fucking get it. “You got yours fighting him, Harry. I got mine joining him. It's different.”

“You’re not that person anymore, Draco.”

Draco looked at the ceiling, willing his eyes to dry, trying to ignore the good things Harry was saying. He didn't deserve it. “How do you know that?”

Harry’s fingers finally breached the edge of the ink, the pad of his thumb grazing gently over the tattoo. “Because you're here, in bed with me, telling me how much you hate it.”

Draco was silent for a bit, thinking. Harry let him process, trailing his fingers up and down Draco’s arms.

“We are in bed together,” Draco said finally, almost like he was just realizing it then. Harry murmured in agreement, trailing his fingers down to Draco’s. He entwined them slowly, locking their hands together. “Are we, er, are we supposed to talk about this?”

“What about it?” Harry asked carefully.

“This is the second time in the past week we've,” Draco paused, originally planning on saying _slept together,_ but that wouldn't really work. “Done this,” he finally continued, for lack of a better term.

“It is,” Harry mumbled back. “It has been nice.”

Draco didn't know what to say back to that, so he didn't say anything at all. He just let Harry graze his fingers against his arms. After a while, Harry turned, letting his fingers graze their way up Draco’s stomach. His chest, his collarbones, his neck, finally making their way up his jaw. Draco closed his eyes as Harry traced his features. His jaw, cheekbones, eyebrows, nose. He opened his eyes when Harry slid his thumb across his lips, felt Harry's eyes studying his lips, his face, _him,_ every inch of him. Memorizing him.

Draco thought to himself that nothing could ruin this. Nothing could make this moment less than it is.

Draco Malfoy has always underestimated the power of Pansy Parkinson.

“Wake up lovebirds, we're going to Hogsmeade!” Pansy exclaimed as she burst through the door. Draco and Harry immediately jumped apart, in fact, Harry almost fell off of the bed. She set a thick looking sludge on the bed next to Harry. “Potter, I brought you a hangover potion, I suggest you drink it,” She said far louder than Harry’s mind could tolerate at the given moment. Harry grabbed it from the table and, scrunching his nose at the smell of it, downed it in a couple sips.

“Merlin’s beard, Pansy would it kill you to _knock,_ ” Draco muttered, but he didn't really seem all of that bothered. “We could have been engaging in some _unsavory acts_.”

“As much as that repulses me, I figured it was worth the risk. Anyways, we’re going to Hogsmeade. Dress warm. We’re leaving in twenty.” Pansy ordered and walked back out of the dormitory, leaving Harry in a slightly startled and slightly confused state.

Harry was though, admittedly, feeling better after drinking the potion.

“ _Unsavory acts_?” Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco, turning back to face him.

“Sex, Potter,” Draco drawled, unwillingly climbing out of the bed.

“I’m not that easy,” Harry said, watching Draco get dressed from his spot on the bed.

Draco laughed, pulling a sweater over his head. “Actually, you are.”

“I haven't slept with _you_ yet, have I?” Harry quipped back. Draco laughed again, but couldn't help but feel his throat jump at the word the word _yet._

“Oh Potter, I haven't even made an attempt to get in your pants. I’m cutting you a break, because I know how much trouble you’d have resisting me and my _‘magnificent arse’_.”

“I was drunk, Draco. That's not fair,” Harry said, climbing out of bed to go through Draco’s wardrobe.

“I believe you also said something about how pretty my shoes were,” Draco helpfully added. “Pretty, pretty shoes.”

“You know that I can hex you, right?” Harry asked, pulling a pale blue sweater out of Draco’s closet. “Like, I’m fairly certain it's justified at this point.”

“Not that one,” Draco said, pulling the sweater out of Harry's hands, and replacing it with one that was a deep green. “Here.”

“This is Slytherin colored,” Harry said, wrinkling his nose slightly.

“I am a Slytherin,” Draco reminded him, placing the blue sweater back in the closet. “Besides, this one looks better with your eyes.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but put the sweater on anyway. It was soft, and nice, and if it weren't probably a billion galleons, Harry might have asked to keep it. Malfoy sat down and waited on the bed as Harry grabbed his trousers from the night before.

“Do you mind?” Harry asked, looking pointedly towards Draco with an amused look on his face.

“And miss that arse? No thank you,” Draco said with an amused smile.

“ _Occulus obscuro,”_ Harry whispered. He quickly took off Malfoy’s pajamas and put on the trousers while Malfoy was temporarily blinded. “ _Occulus revealo.”_

Draco glared at him after Harry took the spell off. “Now that was just plain _rude_. And it's not like I didn't undress you last night-”

“Harry I-” Ron opened the door but stopped in the doorway, eyes widening between the two of them. “Oh.”

“Ron!” Harry exclaimed, a little breathlessly. “I, er-”

“I think I’m going to go check on Pansy,” Draco said quickly, noticing the tension in the room. Harry watched as Draco quickly slipped through the space beside Ron in the doorway, bounding quickly down the stairs. Ron was still staring at him, slack jawed.

“You said you weren't shagging?” Ron said, perhaps in a bit of disbelief. “I asked you, and you said you weren't shagging-”

“We aren't shagging, Ron,” Harry interrupted.

“You're wearing his clothes. You slept in his room. He was, oh merlin he was talking about _undressing you_.” Ron looked like he was about to be sick.

“God, no, Ron, look I was _drunk-”_

“ _He took advantage of you?_ That fucking git I’ll kill him-”

“Ron listen to me!” Harry exclaimed, and Ron stopped talking. “We aren't fucking. We did sleep in the same bed a couple of nights. I’m sorry I didn't tell you, it's just I thought it might be weird for you-”

“Of course it's weird for me it's Draco fucking Malfoy!” Ron exclaimed, but then took a breath. “Look Harry, this is going to kill me to say but,” he took another breath. “You're my best mate and I want you to be happy. Just, don't lie to me about it okay?”

“Okay,” Harry agreed, with a small smile.

“And blimey, if this means you two can stop fucking ranting about each other every damn minute, this might actually be a good thing,” Ron said as he headed back down the stairs, Harry following behind him. Draco was by the fire in an arm chair, glaring at Pansy as she tried to tame his hair into something half decent.

“Ooh, are you guys ready to go?” Pansy said, looking up from Draco’s hair. “Perfect! I’ll get Hermione and we’ll leave.”

Pansy bounded up the stairs, leaving Ron, Harry, Draco, Blaise, and Neville sitting uncomfortably in silence. She was back in only a moment though, Hermione a few steps behind her. They all followed Pansy and Hermione out of the common room, through the corridors, and out of the castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely love all of your comments you guys, I had no idea I'd get such a positive response when I started this! Thank you so much :)


	10. Chapter 10

“Where exactly are we going?” Neville finally asked as the village came into view.

“Hermione and I need to go grab some books we ordered last week, and I need a new cloak, my old one is a bit too short. Blaise needs to stop in Honeydukes to grab something for his mum for Christmas. Draco, you should probably get something for your mum as well. And Neville, you and Ron could probably both use a haircut.”

Both Ron and Neville both reached up to their hair, feeling how long it was. Pansy was right, honestly. 

They all walked down the main street in a clump. Pansy and Hermione parted from the rest of the group, and Blaise and Neville and Ron made their way into Honeydukes. 

“Do you want to get some breakfast?” Malfoy asked, after the others had walked off. 

“It’s two in the afternoon?”

“So yes?” Malfoy asked hopefully. “C’mon Potter I’m starving.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“There’s a restaurant about a block away that’s good?” Draco suggested. Harry nodded and they turned right at the intersection.

They walked in silence. Not necessarily uncomfortable silence, just quiet. Neither of them knew quite what to say. 

When Draco stopped and opened the door for Harry, Harry’s eyes widened. 

This was not a restaurant. This looked like a goddamn hotel.

Harry paused, staring at the doorway. He tried to get his feet to move, but he was frozen.  

“Something wrong, Potter?”

“Wouldn't you be more comfortable at, say, the Three Broomsticks?” Harry suggested, eyeing the occupants inside. 

“I don't have an issue with the Three Broomsticks for booze, but there’s no way in  _ hell _ I’m eating there,” Malfoy said. “Now come on, it’s cold.”

Harry walked in, and Malfoy followed behind him. 

  
  


A waiter in fancy robes led Harry and Malfoy through the building. There weren’t really any windows as they went further back, and each table was lit by candles. Harry looked around in awe at the ornate decorations around the restaurant, and Malfoy took the menus from the waiter as they sat down.

Harry glanced at the menu for a mere fifteen second before deciding that maybe he could afford the salad.

Maybe. 

If he didn’t spend any more money for the next year.

“I have absolutely no idea what I want,” Draco declared, looking down at the menu, baffled. “What are you getting?”

“I, er,” Harry looked down at the menu as if it might bite him. “The salad looks okay?”

“Salad?” Draco questioned. “You’re not one of those vegetarians, are you?”

Draco actually knew for a fact that Harry was not a vegetarian (you don’t watch someone eat in the Great Hall every day and not pick up some knowledge about their eating habits), but he couldn’t imagine any other reason they boy would get a  _ salad. _

“I’m not a vegetarian,” Harry responded. “Maybe I just like salads, okay?”

“You don’t.”

“How would you know?”

“Not once in the eight years I’ve known you have I ever seen you eat a salad-”

“I can’t afford anything else in here!” Harry finally blurted out, a bit louder than he wanted to. “Can you just fucking drop it and let me get the damn salad?”

“Can you stop being daft and realize I’m paying for your fucking food so it doesn’t matter how much it costs?” Malfoy retorted in an annoyed voice. 

“I don’t need your charity,  _ Malfoy _ ,” Harry responded back in a low voice, sliding his eyes down the menu to avoid the boy’s stare.

“For fuck’s sake Potter it isn’t  _ charity.  _ Everything’s a fucking fight with you I swear. I don’t-”

“So can I start you gentlemen off with something to drink?” The waiter came, seemingly out of nowhere, oblivious to the tension at the table in front of him. 

Harry started to say “Just some water, thanks,” right as Draco said “We’ll have a bottle of the house wine, please.”

The waiter, disregarding Harry completely, nodded at Draco and walked away. The two were silent, sending glares at each other across the table, for a minute until the waiter came back and poured them both wine. 

Harry sighed when he finally took a sip, resigned. “I’m sorry. I’m hungover and grumpy-”

“ _ Grumpy?”  _ Malfoy laughed. “Merlin, Potter, you really do have the vocabulary of a nine year old-”

Malfoy, upon seeing Harry’s glare, shut up immediately. “Sorry,” he apologised quickly, under his breath. “Anyways, not to reopen the argument, but what do you want to eat?”

Harry shrugged, looking back down at the menu for real. “I’ve never even heard of half of this stuff-”

“It’s  _ French _ food Potter,” Malfoy said, looking at his own menu. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been to France?”

“I’ve never been to France,” Harry said flatly, still looking at the menu, trying to read the foreign words. 

“Oh,” Draco said simply. He looked over the beef bourguignon, debating whether he’d rather have that or the coq au vin. “We’ll have to go sometime,” he murmured thoughtlessly, turning over the page of the menu.

Harry raised an eyebrow, but Malfoy didn’t look up, instead he was focused intently on translating the menu in front of him. Harry wasn’t even sure Malfoy had realized what he said. 

The waiter came back, and Malfoy ordered for the both of them. Harry let him, and managed to conceal his shock at the perfect accent with which Malfoy listed what they wanted.The food came and Harry, although still not entirely sure what it was, thought it was phenomenal. These french chefs could give the Hogwarts elves a run for their money (that is, if the house elves were actually paid).

Harry and Draco discussed school work and Quidditch (both lamenting the fact eighth years weren’t allowed to play), and surprisingly, the conversation didn’t lull once. It wasn’t until Harry and Malfoy were leaving the restaurant that Harry realized how much he was actually enjoying spending time with Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a super small chapter (sorry) but the next chapter (which I should be posting in the morning) is too long to include it. Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Please leave kudos/comments!!!


	11. Chapter 11

Harry and Draco nearly walked right past the hair salon, but they walked in upon seeing Neville, Ron, and Blaise through the window. Ron’s didn’t look much different, he only had a little cut off, but Neville’s looked quite different. From where they were in the shoppe, Harry and Draco could see Blaise talking to Neville’s stylist, presumably talking about how it was being cut. Blaise was making a bunch of hand motions Harry couldn’t put together, but the stylist nodded, picking back up a pair of shears and returning to Neville’s hair.

“Maybe you should get a haircut, Potter,” Draco suggested, eyeing the top of Harry’s head with a scrutinizing gaze. “Your hair is rather unkempt.”

“You think?” Harry asked self consciously, raising a hand up to flatten his hair. 

Draco’s eyes widened. He was so used to criticizing Potter it was just habit,  _ he didn’t actually want him to cut his hair.  _

“I guess it could do with a trim-”

“Merlin Potter, no, I was just fucking with you, I actually like your hair long,  _ do not touch your hair _ ,” Draco said quickly, and Harry’s eyes lit up, amused. 

“You like my hair?” Harry asked, beaming up at Draco.

“Fuck off, Potter,” Draco muttered. He pulled Harry’s arm and led him back out of the shoppe. “They’re probably still going to be a bit. What do you want to do in the meantime?”

“Not sure. Have anything in mind?” Harry asked, arm still linked with Draco’s.

At this precise moment a group of hufflepuff girls walked by them, eyes widening at the pair and whispering excitedly to each other.

Draco smiled slyly as he got an idea. “We could head back to the castle and have sex?” he suggested loudly, so the hufflepuff girls couldn’t possibly  _ not  _ hear him. Ignoring Harry’s indignant sputters, he continued. “Ooh, _or_ we could go to that lingerie shoppe on seventh. They have some pieces that you would look  _ breathtaking  _ in.”

Harry, face flushed and coughing loudly, dragged the hysterically laughing Draco Malfoy into a nearby alley away from the giggling girls. “What the absolute  _ fuck  _ was that?” he whispered indignantly, face still flushed pink.

“We have a reputation to uphold, Potter,” Draco said with a slight smile, despite being shoved up against a wall by the shorter boy. “Now that you’re done being the Chosen Boy, you’ve got to stay part of the gossip  _ somehow _ .”

“They, everyone thinks that we’re-” Harry couldn’t bring himself to say it, cheeks bright red.

“Fucking, yes. They think one of us is regularly getting it in the arse,” Draco said, with a hint of a smile still occupying his face. “Loads of people are betting I’m the bottom, but I’ve also heard several rumors that I’m actually a top, so really it’s a mixed bag. Oh, and now everyone is going to think I have a kink for lingerie. Which, while not entirely unfounded-”

“Draco!” Harry cut him off, voice high and a little faint.  _ “Jesus Christ Draco-” _

Draco, exhilarated by both the way Harry called him by his first name and the affect his words were having on Harry, burst out laughing again.  

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, truly,” he said through his laughter, pulling away from the wall and grabbing Harry’s arm again. Draco pulled him out of the alley and back onto the street. “We’ll go shopping for clothes or whatever you want, and I promise I won’t spread any rumors about our sex lives for the rest of the day.”

Harry allowed himself to be led down the street, towards the main area of the village, concentrated with shops.

“So, where to?” Draco asked.

“I hear there’s a nice lingerie shoppe on seventh,” Harry suggested jokingly, having recovered a bit from the embarrassing experience moments ago. Draco laughed again, and Harry quite liked the sound of it,

“Don’t tempt me, Potter,” Draco said in a low voice with a smile, leading Harry through a throng of people. “I wasn’t kidding about the lingerie kink, and you definitely have the arse for it.”

Harry smiled to himself when Malfoy wasn’t looking, feeling stupidly giddy. He let Malfoy lead him into some clothing shoppe, Draco picking up sweaters and trousers and a new pair of pajama pants (“Not that I mind you borrowing mine, but you really need a  _ proper _ pair”), all the while wondering in his head what the absolute fuck he was doing.

He hated Malfoy.

He slept with him twice. 

Hated him.

Ate dinner with him at a fancy French restaurant.

Hated him.

Let people think that they were having sex. 

Hated him.

Couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“You alright, Potter?” Malfoy asked, after asking him whether he liked a pair of trousers three times in a row. Harry broke out of his thoughts and smiled distractedly.

“Yeah sorry, just got lost in my head for a bit,” he murmured. 

“C’mon, let’s try this lot on, and then we can head back up to the castle,” Draco said, gesturing to the pile of clothes on his arm. Harry nodded and they headed back towards the dressing rooms with all of the clothes.

“Ooh I’m sitting in here with you,” Draco exclaimed upon realizing there was a bench in one of the dressing rooms. “I really am exhausted.”

“All we’ve done today is eat and shop,” Harry said, not even arguing as he entered the dressing room with Draco. “How could you possibly be tired?”

“Shopping is exhausting,” Draco said, eyes widening slightly as Harry pulled off his shirt right in front of him, reaching for the thing first Draco had selected for him.

Draco quickly realized that being in Harry’s dressing room was a very bad idea. One of his worst, actually, because now, after discussing having sex with Harry only a bit ago, the boy was undressing in front of him. 

And then it truly became torturous. Suddenly Harry was asking Draco what he thought of everything. Asking him to feel the fabric, if he liked the texture. Asking him if the clothing was too snug in places, if it looked okay or if it looked dumb.

And Draco was forced into saying in a strained voice that  _ yes it looks okay. No, it isn’t too tight on your arse. Yes Potter, the fabric is indeed very soft. You don’t look dumb, you look good, now add it to the fucking ‘yes’ pile already. _

All Draco could do was thank Merlin that his own robes were loose enough to prevent a certain unwanted situation from being revealed.

Finally, after working his way through the mountain of clothes Draco had picked out, Harry flopped onto the bench next to Draco, letting his head fall onto his shoulder.

“Shopping is exhausting,” Harry finally said, letting his eyes fall shut. Draco hummed in agreement as he charmed all of the clothes back onto their hangers, himself feeling quite worn.

After summoning those from the ‘yes’ pile, Draco nudged Harry lightly with his shoulder, to which Harry groaned. “C’mon Potter, we’ll check out and go back to Hogwarts.”

Harry got up blearily and followed him robotically to the cash register. He was so tired he didn’t even fight with Malfoy when it came to paying, he just uttered a soft  _ thank you _ and followed him out the door back into the cold, latching his arm onto Draco’s and letting the taller boy lead him back to the castle. 

“Almost there,” Malfoy said softly, encouragingly, once they had come in contact with the warmth of the Hogwarts Castle. He guided Harry all the way to the common room, to find it only occupied by Neville and Blaise. Neville had his face buried in a book, and Blaise was just laying beside him on the couch fast asleep. Malfoy nodded to Neville as then entered, and Harry smiled, and they worked their way up the stairs to Malfoy’s room.

Malfoy kicked off his shoes and put down their bags, only to turn around to find Harry changing into another pair of  _his_ pajama bottoms.

“You do realize that I  _ just  _ bought you pajamas of your own, right?” Draco said with a smile, watching Harry tiredly get changed.

“These are better,” Harry murmured softly, climbing into Draco’s bed. 

“And why is that?” Draco questioned, pulling another pair of pajamas out of his wardrobe and changing as well.

“They smell like you,” Harry whispered into his pillow, so faintly that at first Malfoy doesn’t think he heard him correctly.

“What was that, Potter?” Malfoy asked in a teasing tone as he climbed into bed next to Harry.

“Shut up Malfoy, you heard me,” Harry muttered, pulling Draco in closer. Harry was warm, radiating heat, and Draco pressed his cold hands to Harry’s bare skin, making him squirm.

“So is this going to be a regular thing now?” Draco asked, gesturing to the boy wrapped around him in his bed. Then, panicking while realizing the implications of his question, added, “I just want to know, because if so I might jinx my bed to make it a little bigger. You take up a good bit of space.”

Harry paused, considering the original question. “Is this allowed to be a regular thing? I mean, if you want me to leave-”

“Potter, I’m not kicking you out of my bed,” Draco said quickly, cutting him off. “As long as you want to be here, you’re welcome.”

Both boys realized the unspoken vulnerability behind that. Harry felt awed, Draco felt a bit sick.

“I mean-” Draco went to correct himself, but stopped when Harry lightly pressed his lips to the base of his neck and whispered a soft  _ thank you.  _ Draco’s grip tightened slightly around the shorter boy when his lips met his neck, and he hoped Harry couldn’t hear the way his heartbeat quickened.

“God it’s only seven thirty. We’re old men, Malfoy,” Harry said tiredly, nestling in closer.

“Fuck it, we’ve both lived through enough to earn this,” Draco said, eyes falling shut.

Harry murmured in agreement, and within moments they were both fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Hogsmeade fluff for you guys! I'm super excited about the next chapter, so you lot can look forward to that coming up tomorrow! Anyways, please remember to leave kudos/comments. Thanks guys!


	12. Chapter 12

Harry woke up at three a.m. to a pitch black room, wrapped in the arms of a boy he used to hate.

And Harry was, officially, freaking the fuck out.

He slipped out of Malfoy’s arms with great difficulty and bounded down the stairs to the common room, before making his way over to the girls dormitory, knocking softly.

It took several minutes, but eventually, Hermione opened the door, bewildered, with crazy hair, a tired expression, and quite interesting pajamas. “Harry?”

“Hey, er,” Harry paused in the doorway, rocking from his toes to his heels. “Are you busy right now? Like, can we talk?”

Hermione was fully prepared to tell him she was busy _sleeping_ , but at the look on Harry’s face she softly said, “No, of course I can talk,” and followed him into the common room.

“What’s wrong Harry?” she asked, after they both settled on the couch in front of the fireplace. Harry opened his mouth, but then closed it again, and repeated the action roughly three times.

“Hermione I-” Harry hesitated, scared to say it out loud. “Hermione, I think I like Malfoy.”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, confused. “Well of course you do?” she responded, confused.

“No Hermione,” Harry said seriously. “I think I _like_ him.”

“I thought this was common knowledge?” Hermione asked, still looking perplexed. “Merlin, Harry, the whole school knows you’re having, er, _relations-”_

“Christ Hermione, we’re not actually shagging? I figured Ron told you. Malfoy just did it to mess with me-”

“Wait so you guys aren’t actually dating?” Hermione clarified.

“No, we aren’t,” Harry said, torn between annoyed and a little disappointed.

“But you guys sleep together? Blaise said you guys sleep in the same bed-”

“I honestly don’t know how to explain that. It started the night Slughorn did the sleep potion and now it’s just like, a thing we do, and I have no idea what the fuck we’re doing,” Harry finished hurriedly, sounding stressed.

“Have you guys kissed?” She asked, and Harry flushed.

“No, not really.” Hermione raised her eyebrows and Harry continued. “Like, he kissed me on the forehead, but that was kind of a fluke thing, probably.”

“But he’s telling everyone you’re having sex?”

“In explicit detail, apparently,” Harry said quietly, and Hermione didn’t respond, just made a thoughtful hum.

“So what’s the issue?” She finally asked.

“Hermione, are you not listening to me? _I said I’m into Malfoy_ -”

“And?” She prompted. “The war is over, Harry. Not to mention, people already think you’re dating, and it has been fine. You have nothing to worry about.”

“What if he doesn’t like me back?” Harry finally replied. “What if I fuck everything up?”

“Have a little faith in yourself, Harry,” Hermione said, and stood up. “Now I’m off to bed, I suggest you do the same.”

“Thank you, Hermione,” Harry said, standing up as well. “G’night.”

“Night,” she said, and disappeared up the staircase.

 

Harry made his way back up the stairs into Malfoy’s room, only to find him awake, reading.

Suddenly Harry panicked, worried Malfoy had somehow heard every word of his conversation with Hermione. “How long have you been awake?”

“Hello to you too, Potter,” Draco said, looking up from his book. “Ten minutes, maybe. I heard voices. Who were you talking to in the middle of the night?” Draco’s tone was light and overly casual, but he was burning with curiosity.

“Hermione,” Harry said lightly, wondering if he heard anything specific. “Did you hear anything we said?”

“No, why?” asked Draco, surprised, and a tiny part of him suspicious. “Did I miss anything important?”

“No, it was just girl talk,” Harry lied, quite obviously. He slid back into bed beside Draco but didn’t wrap his arms back around him. He wished Draco would close his book and give Harry all of his attention, pull him into his arms and hold him, but instead Draco’s eyes intently flitted across the words on the page.

“Is the Granger girl straight?” Draco asked after a minute, and Harry was both taken aback and confused by the question.

“I haven’t the faintest. Why?” Harry asked curiously.

“You two spend a lot of time together,” Malfoy said, scanning the same line of his book three times in a row. “I was just curious.”

“Jesus, no, Hermione and I aren’t like that at all,” Harry said quickly, and Malfoy tried to steel his expression, but Harry could have sworn he saw he corners of his mouth turn up.

“Jealous, Malfoy?” Harry asked, maybe a tad bit hopeful.

“Hardly. But how would it look if my _supposed boyfriend_ was caught fooling around with some girl? Can’t be too careful,” he said in a calculated voice.

Harry’s mind foolishly caught and latched onto the word _boyfriend_ . “Oh, so we aren’t just fuck buddies to the school anymore? We’re a proper couple? Well thank merlin you told me, otherwise my Christmas present for you could have been _disastrous.”_

“We’re hardly a proper couple in the eyes of the school. Nobody has even seen us kiss yet,” Draco said scathingly. “These poor deprived teenage girls have not gotten so much from us as a peck on the cheek.”

“Well next time we’re in a big crowd, I’ll be sure to properly snog you in front of everyone.” Harry meant it as a joke, mostly, but now that it was out of his mouth it didn’t feel like one. Now, it felt like a promise. It made him feel nauseous.

“You’re going to make me wait until we find a big crowd? That’s cruel, Potter,” Draco said in what should have been a joking remark, but it didn’t quite come out as a joke either. “Not sure I can wait that long.”

“Ooh, or we could do it at Christmas,” Harry suggested, going against the voice in his head. “We could make a big scene out of it. Mistletoe, sweaters, the whole nine yards. Everyone would eat it up.”

“Christmas is still two _weeks_ away Potter. Now you’re just _trying_ to torture me,” Draco said, closing his book. He extinguished the lamp beside their bed, and the room went dark. As their eyes adjusted, Draco shifted in the bed, right next to Harry but not holding him yet.  

“You should make the bed bigger,” Harry said suddenly. Draco, suddenly wondering if he stepped over the line with his last comment, immediately scooted away from Harry.

“Oh, sorry,” Draco said quickly, embarrassed. “I’ll stay over on one side, I’m sorry. I don’t have my wand but tomorrow I can-”

“Malfoy, you idiot, I don’t want you on your own side. I want us, exactly like we were before, just with less of a risk of us falling off of the bed. You don’t have to do it now, it’s just, you said you wanted to make the bed bigger if this was going to be a regular thing,” Harry finally explained, a little embarrassed. Malfoy breathed a sigh of relief and scooted back over towards the middle, and, _finally,_ pulled Harry close to him.

“So you,” Malfoy paused. “You want this to be a regular thing?”

“Fucking hell, who’s the daft one now? Yes you idiot, I want to spend every night of the foreseeable future with you,” Harry said, not caring about how he sounded. “Plus, we have to have something keeping up going until Christmas.”

“I don’t want to kiss you in public,” Malfoy said after a minute, and after a few seconds he looked at Harry, horrified after seeing his expression. “Oh Merlin, Harry, no, I just meant-” Malfoy paused and took a deep breath. He continued in a lower voice, almost a whisper. “If we decide to, I mean, when we, er, if we kiss-” Malfoy swallowed loudly, and Harry had never heard him stutter over his words like this before. “I don’t want to kiss you for the first time in public. I want it to be just us.”

Harry carefully considered what to say back to this, and then thought, _fuck it. Fuck it, genuinely fuck it, because what do I have to lose?_

“It’s just us right now,” Harry said quietly. Draco’s head shot up, and his stare bore into Harry’s. “Draco, right now, it’s just us.”

Harry couldn’t identify the emotion expressed on Draco’s face for the life of him. He was silent for at least a full thirty seconds. And then:

“You would let me kiss you? Now?” Draco asked, confused.

Harry sighed impatiently. “Draco, I am asking you to kiss me, now.”

Draco was frozen for another full thirty seconds, and Harry felt jittery and nervous and a little sick. _This is was a mistake this was a-_

Draco’s hand reached up to cup Harry’s jaw and he gently pulled them together, pressing his lips against Harry’s. It was soft and careful and god Draco was so fucking gentle, like Harry might break. He pulled away, only to lean in and pepper kisses on his lips again, and again, and again. It was chaste and not what Harry expected and soft and _Draco._ Harry couldn’t keep the small noise of content from escaping him, and Draco pulled away, and _laughed._

Draco’s voice was soft and breathless as he peppered kisses down Harry’s jaw, Harry’s neck, Harry’s collarbones. Harry couldn’t quite make out what exactly it was that Draco was saying and then, as he worked his way back around his neck and up to hover near his ear, Harry heard it.

 _“Harry, harry, harry,”_ Malfoy was whispering his name, over and over again, kissing every part of him he could reach. Harry felt like he was melting as he let Draco pepper kisses all over his body, and after a moment, used his shaky hands to pull Draco back to him, to kiss him properly, because god, Harry couldn’t get enough. He tried to deepen the kiss, but Malfoy kept it frustratingly light, pulling away only to lean back in again moments later. Harry tried to deepen the kiss again, and he heard Draco groan in frustration.

“You are seriously testing my self control here,” Draco said breathlessly, in a low voice.

“And why would you need self control?” Harry questioned, trying to pull them back together, but Malfoy had moved his head down to kiss lines down Harry’s neck.

“Because I want to savor this. I want to savor just kissing you,” Draco said, face pink, refusing to meet Harry’s eyes.

“Oh,” Harry said, eyebrows knitting together. “I thought all Slytherins were like, pretty promiscuous though?”

“Christ, Potter, I’m not saying we’re not going to fuck. I’m just saying, right now, I just want to kiss you.” Draco worked back up to Harry’s face and kissed Harry’s lips again softly.

“And we can’t make out because?” Harry questioned once Malfoy pulled away.

“Because once I’d start making out with you, I’d lose all willpower. There’d be nothing stopping me from-” Malfoy’s throat closed off at the thought of what he was going to say.

“Oh go on,” Harry encouraged with a teasing smile. “You’ve been describing us shagging in explicit detail to the whole school, you should have no problem discussing our sex life with just me.”

“Oh fuck off,” Malfoy said with a laugh, finally moving so he wasn’t completely on top of Harry before collapsing onto the bed. He rested his head on Harry’s chest and slung a leg over to fit between between Harry’s, wrapping his arm around his waist and completely intertwining himself with the boy.

“I still cannot believe that the Great Draco Malfoy is a _cuddler,”_ Harry said after a few minutes, in an amused voice. Draco’s ears turned pink.

“I’m not a fucking _cuddler,”_ Draco hissed, as if he were being accused of something much worse.

“Draco, do you see this? What we’re doing? Right now? This is the textbook definition of cuddling,” Harry said with a laugh, gesturing between the two of them.

“Fine,” Draco huffed, and shifted to move off of him. Harry’s arms tightened before he could, locking him into place.

“I didn’t say I didn’t _like_ it,” Harry said incredulously, pulling Draco in a bit closer.

“I’m supposed to go home in a week for Christmas holiday,” Draco said, running his fingers distractedly across Harry’s chest.

Harry felt his heart sink in disappointment. “You’re leaving?”

“I was planning on it. My mother, she’s alone now. We sold the manor, bought a house in France, and it’s just her. I wanted to go and visit her.”

“Oh,” Harry said, nodding sympathetically. “Of course, yeah, you should go see your mum.”

“What are your plans for the holiday? Going to the Burrow?” Draco questioned.

“The Burrow burnt down. They’d rebuilding it, but it’s cramped enough as it is, trying to fit everyone into a half-done house. I think I’m just staying here for the holidays,” Harry said, thinking nostalgically of his time back at the Burrow. He missed it, they all did.

“You could come with me,” Draco suggested quietly.

“To France?” Harry asked, a little shocked. Draco immediately backtracked.

“I mean, you don’t have to, it’s just, seeing as you have nowhere else to go, and you’ve never been to France, and my mother, she’s actually quite fond of you, and she’d love to have company, but if you don’t-”

“I’d love to, Draco, but I don’t speak French?” Harry interrupted.

“But I speak French, and you’d be with me,” Draco said pointedly.

“Okay, then yes,” Harry responded with a large grin. “I’d love to go to France with you.”

“I’ll write to my mum in the morning,” Draco said with a smile.

“Is it not morning yet?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

“It’s five thirty, so, hardly,” Draco said, looking over at the clock beside his bed.

“God, our sleeping schedules are gonna be so fucked after this. Why didn’t we go back to bed as soon as I came back up?”

“I was kissing you,” Draco pointed out. “It might have been a bit rude if you had fallen asleep during _that_.”

“Oh, I can kiss you now!” Harry said breathlessly. “You distracted me from seducing you with all of your talk about France.”

“You don’t have to _seduce_ me Harry,” Draco said with a laugh. “If you want me, I’m yours.”

“Just like that?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just like that,” Draco repeated, lift his head off of Harry’s chest and hovering down to kiss him once more. Harry let out a sigh of content when he pulled away.

They laid there all morning, occasionally stealing kisses, talking about nothing and savoring every minute of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally a new chapter!!! Sorry it's been so long. Please comment/leave kudos!!!


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